


Here We are as in Olden Days

by LeandraLocke, saturnmeetsmercury (jarofhearts)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M, Mistletoe, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 15:37:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2817401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeandraLocke/pseuds/LeandraLocke, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarofhearts/pseuds/saturnmeetsmercury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People say there is always something special about December. But neither Steve nor Bucky realised how much truth that might hold for them that would shape their lives for many Christmases to come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here We are as in Olden Days

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everybody and Happy Holidays from both of us! Here's another collaboration from us, this time Stucky, which we hope you'll enjoy. Many thanks to our beta-reader Indigo for her great work!  
> And now, get yourselves some Christmas cookies, a glass of eggnog or mulled wine, put on some Christmas classics or whatever else brings you in a festive mood and have fun!

 

_Christmas future is far away_  
_Christmas past is past_  
_Christmas present is here today_  
_Bringing joy that will last._

* * *

**December 1941**

 

It was the first Sunday in Advent, and,  as far as Bucky was concerned, so far it had been a pretty damn good one.

they’d gone to church, and yes, he had yawned his way through it, trying at least to be subtle about it because he was getting a bony elbow in the side every time he couldn’t swallow it down in time.

They had gone to the park afterwards, a dash of early snow topping everything like powdered sugar. Some said there was a blizzard coming soon, but for now the sight had been too pretty for Bucky to mind. There were a lot of things people said were coming. He’d been determined not to let them worry him for at least twenty-four hours.

The highlight, however, had been when they’d gone out in the evening. Without any dates this time, so it had been easier to convince Steve to come. Just to a pub, for drinks and a good time, _come on Stevie, they have mulled wine, it’ll warm you up like nothing, it’ll be great._

So they had gone, and had warmed themselves up right to the core.

“Can you believe how cold it is?” Bucky shuddered when they quickly closed the door to their tiny apartment behind them, tugging on his scarf. His face was still warm and flushed, but the very first thing he did was to go and fire up the stove anyway.

“Yeah,” Steve said as he hung his coat, leaving his woollen hat and scarf on for just a moment longer until he put those away, too. He was rubbing his hands, getting closer to the tiled stove that was barely warm enough yet, and Bucky knew he must be freezing much more than he would let on, tiny and skinny as he was, barely some muscle, let alone body fat on him to keep him warm.

Bucky shivered from just looking at him. And so he took up their somewhat ratty blanket from Steve’s narrow bed, which they used as a couch during the day, shook it out, and wordlessly threw it around Steve's shoulders as he passed him on the way to their cabinet.

"You want some more?"

Steve gave him a small smile, one of the half bashful, half touched sort. “No, I’m good.”

Bucky couldn't help grinning back at him as he took out their bottle of whiskey. It only ever came out on either bad or special days, and  today was special enough.

"Tipsy already?"

A small chuckle followed that question, then a shrug, and Steve just looked at Bucky challengingly. “Not as much as you.”

“Pff. Why aren’t you keeping up then? I’m not trying to get you or me drunk, just, y’know… comfortable,” Bucky said while he poured himself a drink, and shrugged.

“Yeah, because you looked so uncomfortable earlier.” There was gentle and playful mockery in Steve’s words, but he came closer, accepting the second glass that Bucky had just filled.

Happy that his friend had decided to drink with him after all, Bucky raised his glass, but let out a huff nevertheless. “I didn’t say _uncomfortable_.”

Steve only let one eyebrow quirk up, the smallest of smirks around his lips before he brought the glass to them. But there was a brief look in his eyes that betrayed him somewhat - probably only to someone who knew him as well as Bucky did. It wasn’t hard to guess why. Even though Bucky had done his best to ignore them, a few girls had given Bucky the eye while acting like Steve wasn’t even present. Steve, proud and stubborn as he was, always tried to hide his disappointment in these situations, but Bucky saw through him too easily.

The worst thing about it had been the mistletoe hanging on some spot over the bar. Bucky had fallen for it six damn times.

So he shrugged again, trying not to feel or look guilty. Hell, he should have been really happy, theoretically, and it had all been in good fun for a while, so Bucky was the last who would mind. But these things were only funny for so long, especially considering how the look on Steve’s face had changed subtly throughout the evening.

“Believe me, Stevie, even you’d roll your eyes at some point.”

“Yeah? Not sure I’ll ever get the chance to test that theory, but if you say so.” The words didn’t sound bitter, but Bucky knew exactly what was lying under them, and so he nudged his friend, trying to keep the mood light. It wasn’t all that difficult, considering how light-headed he was already feeling from all the drinks.

“I do say so. You’ll see, some day it’ll happen and you’ll think of me.”

It made him think of something else though, and after knocking back his drink, Bucky put the glass away to fish for the mistletoe he had stuffed in his breast pocket after that sixth kiss. He had, loudly and with his most charming grin, declared that it wasn’t open season anymore, had climbed up on a bar stool, and had plucked the twig down.

Now Bucky twirled it between his fingers. “That wasn’t exactly normal anyway.”

Steve shrugged faintly, finishing his own drink. “You’re right. Even for your standards they were behaving ridiculously. Must have been the eggnog.” Again that dry, teasing humour, but  this time Bucky was convinced any kind of frustration had faded from Steve’s mood, making him give a relieved grin in return.

“Pff, my standards… Thing is, they wouldn’t have needed to be all that serious about it. I mean, not that _literally_.” He rolled his eyes and waved the mistletoe around above their heads. “Just ‘cause… Hey, Stevie, look, now you just gotta kiss me too.”

Steve’s eyebrow went up again as he looked at the mistletoe, and for a moment Bucky thought Steve looked like he had no idea what to respond. He was already beginning to regret his words when Steve looked back into his eyes, that even, drily amused expression on his features again - though, this time, there seemed to be something else hidden in his blue eyes.

“Do I now?”

For a moment it felt like Bucky’s heart was dropping in his chest, and he struggled to regain enough casualness to eventually huff out another laugh. “Yeah, obviously. It’s tradition.”

_What are you doing, just put the damn thing away already…_

In hindsight, Bucky wasn’t _completely_ sure what had happened then, or how. Whether Steve was just pulling his leg, or both of them were more tipsy than Bucky would have thought, and both made no sense at all. The only thing he did know, then and much later, was how Steve stood on tiptoes and brought his lips to Bucky’s, nearly missing when Bucky moved an inch in surprise. But that wasn’t the end of it yet, not just a fleeting, aimless peck but an actual, real kiss.

It must have been instinct that let him return the kiss, because Bucky’s brain felt frozen. It was pretty much the only explanation he had, the only explanation he’d be able to give Steve as soon as he’d pull away and ask what the hell Bucky was doing, this was just a joke after all…

But a second ticked past, and another, and another, and Bucky anticipated it, but it didn’t happen, and they were still kissing each other. And how in all a world was that happening?

When eventually, Steve did draw away, his hand was still on Bucky’s upper arm - and when the hell had it come to rest there - and their faces only two, three inches apart. Steve did not look like he was appalled, shocked with himself, but his eyes did widen a fraction, a wordless struggle in them as they drifted lower to Bucky’s lips and back up to his eyes.

Bucky’s mouth was so dry that he had to swallow, and his heart was hammering, and it took his all not to just lean in again right away. Instead his mind supplied them both with an out, because it was what they _should_ be doing, and he might have been able to blame being drunk for this, but if he was honest, he really wasn’t.

“Shouldn’t we… stop?”

“Yeah,” Steve replied immediately. Lips parted, gaze drifting to Bucky’s mouth. And then he kissed him again, warm and sweet and tasting faintly of whiskey. “Definitely.” The briefest of interruptions before their lips touched again, and now Bucky was sure he was dreaming, or dying, or had at least somehow hit his head really hard. A soft groan that must have been his own sounded between their lips, and at some point he seemed to have dropped the mistletoe, because he was cradling Steve’s face now in a way he had thought about so often before.

Not just a mere pressing together of lips, this kiss was more. It was warm and slick as their lips parted and their tongues met, and Bucky thought he could honest to god get  drunk just from this.

Steve kissed him with hungry enthusiasm, and, like almost everything else about him, it was in such stark contrast to what many perceived as an innocent, mousy appearance. But then, Steve did draw back again, a faint gasp coming over his lips as he pulled himself away, his eyes wide now. His mouth, however, curled into a tiny, barely visible smile, but hell no, Bucky wasn’t done kissing him.

No way.

Before he knew what he was doing, he had his hand tangled in the edges of the blanket around Steve’s shoulders to pull him back in. At this point he didn’t even really care if it was a dream or not, because Steve was kissing him and smiling at him, and he was going to milk this moment for all this was worth.

The tiny sound Steve made when Bucky bit lightly into his lower lip was enough to awaken all sorts of desires in him, the ones  he kept in a tightly sealed box inside of him whenever it wasn’t completely safe to examine them in his own head.

“We’re going to hell for this,” he heard himself groan against Steve’s lips, but not for a second willing to really break their kiss again.

“Hm,” Steve muttered between kisses, shrugging his shoulders softly. “Jail first, I’d say.” Which didn’t keep him from raising his arms now, wrapping them around Bucky’s neck and shoulders and kissing him yet more deeply than before.

It was ridiculous how much Steve saying that made Bucky want him. It was something slightly hysterical that rose in his chest, escaped in tiny pearls of laughter between their kisses, and he finally dared to actually _touch_ Steve, his shoulders, his upper arms, his sides and those slim hips of his, neither of them minding that the blanket had slid down to the floor.

“Steve… Steve… God, Stevie…”

Steve brushed another soft kiss to Bucky’s lips before he sank back onto the soles of his shoes, and his arms slid down was well, one hand right above Bucky’s elbow, the other around his waist. His gaze, however, was fixed on Bucky’s features, eyes shining warmly, brow furrowed ever so slightly and the most genuinely tender smile Bucky had ever seen on Steve’s lips. “Comfortable enough then?” There was a small hint of gentle teasing, but underneath the question seemed sincere.

Everything Bucky could reply was, “I want to kiss every single place on your body.”

“Jesus, Buck.” For the  the first time tonight, Steve seemed flustered, and that in itself was a bit of an achievement. “That’s more comfortable than I would have expected.”

“I… I…”

Bucky didn’t know what to say to that. He had enough time for a bit of panic to flare up in his chest that made him lost for words.

“Steve…”

“Yes?” Steve replied, patiently and a little bit amused. His right hand drew gentle circles over Bucky’s upper arm.

It was enough to soothe that brief moment of panic, and Bucky let out a breath.

“Jesus, Steve, don’t do that to me right now.”

A minuscule chuckle came over his lips, but he stood on his tiptoes again, brushing a soft kiss to the side to Bucky’s mouth, his cheek and jawline. “Tell you what. We’ll sit down on the couch, have a glass of water and… We can see whether you stand by your word tomorrow?”

Bucky knew immediately what Steve meant, and a part of him wanted to ask, ‘Why not right now?’

But maybe Steve wasn’t so wrong about this, and so he just bit down on his lower lip and drank in the sight of those red-kissed lips, before finally saying, “Okay. ‘s long as we’re clear that there are no takebacks.”

Steve looked at him for a long moment. The amused, light-hearted mood from earlier seemed gone now, replaced by something much more gentle and sincere. There was something else in his eyes, too, as he laid one hand on Bucky’s cheek, carefully guarded with a soft smile as he so often did. “I’m not going to take anything back.”

All Bucky could do then was grin, wide and brilliant, because that was the best damn thing he had heard in years.

 

***

 

Steve was still breathing hard, loud puffs of breath coming over his lips. His whole body was aglow with warmth, and he felt pleasantly exhausted, unable to move a single muscle, at least for now. It was, by far, the best he could ever feel in this body that so often tried to work against him. Breathless, boneless, but not suffocating and weak. What was even better - and a part of Steve could still not really believe how it had come to this - was the way Bucky made him feel. His arms around him, hands touching every inch of his skin, lips wandering over his body. The smell of him, the taste (and how often had Steve imagined what a kiss would taste like, only to find out none of his fantasies could compare).

But mostly the way he looked at him, like right now in this moment, when they were lying on some blankets and cushions on the floor in their living room, near the tiled stove where it was warmest; so warm that they didn’t even pull the covers above themselves now, completely naked. Bucky looked at him, gaze warm and gentle, and the tiniest of smirks around his mouth that was just as warm but also a bit salacious. As if Steve was the most desirable being he’d set eyes on, and Steve couldn’t, for the life of him, explain how he’d deserved that. It didn’t matter how, though; he was simply immensely grateful, happy, and, despite his earlier uncertainties, completely confident and trusting that Bucky would not run off with the next best (or any) woman.

It had been not quite four weeks, and even though, yes, he still had to pinch himself sometimes, he did not expect anything to change in the next four weeks , or four months, or years even. If he was going to live that long, but that was another aspect he refused to spare any thought on, at least right now.

Steve lifted his hand, finding that he had slowly regained the strength to let it run along Bucky’s shoulder, over his collarbone and chest, following the shadows his fingers cast in the warm candle light. Steve didn’t quite know why, but somehow, in the afterglow of bliss, he felt Bucky was at his most beautiful.

He could see that smile widen a bit, lazy and happy, and then Bucky let out a small, content kind of sigh and rolled onto his side to be able to wrap his arm around Steve's waist and press a kiss to his temple.

"Good?" Bucky murmured close to his ear, his very own way of not just asking that, but also if Steve was okay.

“Better than good,” Steve replied. He let his palm run over the arm that held him, gently up and back down again as he turned into the embrace. “A little hot, though.”

That made Bucky laugh, and he brushed his hand over Steve's stomach. "We need to do this a whole lot more during winter then, if it keeps you warm like this."

Steve felt a smile spread over his lips, and he snuggled even a bit closer. It hadn’t been often that he had felt this warm and comfortable in winter. Even sleeping in the living room with the remaining heat in the stove keeping the room a little warmer than the rest of the small apartment, Steve had been freezing at night, all throughout November. But now, with Bucky’s body always next to his, wrapped around him protectively, Steve had not felt cold a single night even when they had gone to sleep in the slightly larger bed in the unheated bedroom.

“Does that mean we’ll do this less in summer?” he asked eventually, the content smile on his lips turning into a faint smirk as he looked at Bucky, curious of his response.

"What do you think?" Bucky grinned back and reached up to quickly ruffle Steve's hair. Before he really had the chance to protest, he had rolled away and climbed to his feet. "Water?"

Steve nodded, propped on one elbow as he watched Bucky walk over to the kitchen sink. And what a great sight that was, making him itch to take out paper and pencil if it wasn’t rather ridiculous to ask Bucky to keep standing there as he was for the next twenty minutes or so. Maybe he’d request it tomorrow as an additional Christmas gift. And instead of standing by the kitchen counter, Steve could draw him in front of the makeshift Christmas tree - no more than three larger branches in a vase - they had decorated with just a few, rather old ornaments and candles.

“Do you still want to go to church tonight?” he asked when Bucky had sat back down, both of them their glass of water in hand. Steve let his gaze wander to the clock on the wall. “It’s still forty minutes before the mass starts.”

Bucky couldn't quite catch himself and the face he made involuntarily, though he made a point to even his features again quickly as he shrugged. "Not that I don't like it right here," he replied with a small smirk and a quick glance at Steve, "but, you know. If you wanna go, I'll come."

“Don’t tell me you’re not comfortable going to church after what we’ve been up to.”

Bucky snickered softly, watching unabashedly as he had taken to doing these past weeks, in a way he never quite had before. "Nah... It's just really cold outside."

It had been mostly a joke, and Steve felt a smile linger on his lips for a few moments as he reached for Bucky’s hand, entwining their fingers and watching how well they seemed to fit despite his own hand being quite a bit smaller.

It had gotten a bit cooler after all, and Steve pulled the blanket over himself with his free hand before he brought their entwined hands up to his lips, gently kissing Bucky’s knuckles. “Last time I went to Christmas Eve mass it was with my ma. She always looked forward to it.”

He could see how the look on Bucky's face turned warmer, sympathy and a bit of melancholy. He angled his thumb to be able to let it brush over Steve's lips.

"I mean it. We'll go if you want to."

Despite the soft chill, now that his body had relaxed, Steve felt a warmth in the middle of his chest, and he nodded in response, kissing Bucky’s fingers before he tugged at his other arm to pull him back down again. “Should get cleaned up then. In a few minutes.”

Bucky laughed warmly, readily wrapping himself back around Steve and throwing the blanket over them.

"Sound pretty good to me."

For a moment he was quiet, just letting out a soft sigh against Steve's skin. Eventually, however, he muttered, "I think this is the best Christmas Eve I can remember."

Steve wanted to agree readily - and the biggest part of him was happier and had enjoyed himself more than he would have dreamed of - but he also felt a sense of melancholy, wondering what he would have had for dinner tonight had his ma still been alive; if she’d have baked cookies this season and even scraped together the money for cinnamon and almonds, as she’d always somehow managed. How she would have decorated their place, a small tree decked with ribbons and stars made of straw or colourful paper.

As happy as Steve was being with Bucky, he missed his mother terribly, and a little more tonight than most of the past few months.

The way Bucky kissed his shoulder, the way he brushed his hand over Steve's side made him think that Bucky had, again, seen through his silence, knew just what he was  thinking about somehow. But instead of commenting, he let go of him, rolled onto his stomach, and propped himself up on his elbows, still looking as comfortable as though he wasn't lying there stark naked.

"So, I have a question."

“What is it?” Steve asked, one arm underneath his head as he looked over at Bucky who had reached for his glass again to take another sip.

He gestured vaguely between them, a soft grin curling around his lips. "Just before you ask: I fuckin' love what we're doing. Everything. Having you..." Bucky gestured again. "Yeah. So. I was wondering. Would you want a go too?"

Steve would have liked to react nonchalantly, with a joke (‘Before church?’), but right now he could only stare at Bucky, feeling his brows go up and his heart give a few rapid beats in his chest.

When they had first been together, made love, there hadn’t even been much considering or discussing. It had somehow simply felt… _appropriate_. Steve hadn’t minded at all, and even though, naturally, he did wonder what it would feel like having Bucky, he would have been completely happy and satisfied if things had stayed the way they had started.

“You’d want that?”

Bucky smiled at him, one of those smiles that were small and warm and relaxed, and the look in his eyes was supposed to be innocent but really was everything but that as he shrugged.

"Maybe?"

Somehow, that maybe sounded much more like a promise, and Steve felt his heart give yet another excited beat. He leaned over, propped on one elbow as he let his other hand caress Bucky’s shoulder, fingertips dancing lower, slowly. “Okay. You wanna try later? When we get back from church?”

Bucky just looked at him for a moment, and then burst out into quiet laughter.

“I think this is the most surreal conversation I’ve had in ages.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Steve admitted, realising he had let his excitement get the better of him. He had to laugh as well and let his head sink back down, lying comfortably on his side but didn’t stop letting his hand run up and down Bucky’s back. “Does tomorrow morning sound like a more suitable time gap between the Holy Mess and committing unforgivable sins?”

“You mean, right before we go to see my folks?”

That made Steve huff out another laugh, and Bucky shrugged.

“I don’t really care about the time gap,” he said with his lips still curled into a grin. There was something soft around his gaze, something that betrayed how much he enjoyed the touches. “I’m going to do this, and church isn’t going to stop me either way.”

“Good,” Steve replied. He was, sometimes, a little bit surprised at how little guilt he felt over all of this. With his catholic upbringing he probably should, but no matter what a priest would tell him, should he ever confess to it - which he doubted he would - it didn’t feel like something that should be wrong or shameful. How could it, if it brought so much happiness to him, to them both?

“You know what, Buck?” he asked, sliding a bit closer, their faces now just a few inches apart.

His reply was only a soft, hummed “Mmh?”, Bucky looking way too distracted letting his gaze trail over Steve’s face, his eyes and nose and lips.

It took him only a second’s consideration to formulate what he’d wanted to express, the words feeling unusual to him but nonetheless true and coming over his lips more naturally than he would have thought. “You make me really, really happy. And I wouldn’t want to change a thing. Not ever.”

For a moment it looked as though, no matter how obvious, the words still took Bucky off guard. His gaze snapped back up to Steve’s eyes, and there was something not quite surprised, but almost vulnerable in it that carried into the smile he inevitably gave Steve in return.

“Good. Cause I’m still not quite sure how all this madness happened, but I sure as hell wanna keep it.”

The words made that pleasant, warm feeling spread inside of him again, and Steve couldn’t help but lean in, brush his lips to Bucky’s in a sweet, gentle kiss. “Me too,” he said, even if it was a bit repetitive. He let his head rest on the cushions and nudged Bucky’s arm until they were lying all wrapped around each other again, and Steve let out a content breath.

“Maybe we’ll even afford a real tree next year, what do you think?”

Steve could practically feel Bucky smile against the skin of his shoulder.

"That'd be lovely. Maybe someday we'll get a big one, with lights all over, and red baubles. Or blue. All that pretty stuff."

“Mmh, and a big, golden angel on top,” Steve said, and when he closed his eyes, it wasn’t all that hard to envision. In a larger apartment, with proper furniture and wallpaper that wasn’t scratched and worn. “And a splendid Christmas Eve dinner. One of us will have to learn how to cook, though.”

“You do that,” Bucky replied immediately, shamelessly. “Then you can make us somethin’ fancy. Duck, or… venison. The way rich people eat them.”

“With some fancy red wine and a fine brandy afterwards?” Steve asked. “Maybe you can take me out to see The Nutcracker if we’re already being rich and lavish.”

“Totally,” Bucky laughed softly and pressed a kiss to Steve’s shoulder. “And we’ll dress up all handsome, in real good suits, and you’ll have a bow tie, and I’ll want to kiss you all through the performance.”

“Not sure that last part is gonna be allowed,” Steve said, but even though that awareness did remind him of everything that was unfair it did not cloud his mood. “Maybe the last row at a movie theatre, instead.”

“That’s not half as fancy though. If we’re already talking about this, we should go all out. Opera, or ballet, you know.”

“Okay, then we’ll have to get a private loge. It’s a bit of a shame, though, if you want to kiss me the whole way through. I hear opera and ballet are quite something.”

Bucky snickered quietly. “I can restrain myself.”

“Can you?” Steve asked, hand raking through Bucky’s hair and over his cheek, feeling the evening stubble there. Their lips found each other quite naturally, as if they didn’t even need to communicate with more than a glance anymore to know and both want to kiss each other, and for a few moments they got lost in that sweet, languid kiss.

When Steve drew back, reluctantly, and his gaze wandered up to their clock, he couldn’t help a smirk spreading on his lips. “Not sure either of us are very good at that. If we still want to make it to church in time we should get up… now.”

What he got in reply from Bucky was a long-suffering groan, but he did roll away from Steve and onto his back, lying there half sprawled with his gaze going up to the ceiling.

“Now as in _right now_?”

“Now as in five minutes ago,” Steve replied and teasingly slapped Bucky’s chest twice before he got up to his feet. “We can probably make up some time if we help each other get cleaned up,” he added as he reached out his hand for Bucky, who took it, but not without a smirk.

“You really think that’s going to make us get ready _faster_?” he drew up his eyebrows as he got up to his feet with a little tug from Steve’s hands.

Steve had to laugh softly, thinking that it probably wasn’t the best of ideas, which would leave them both with their own washcloth and cold water since they didn’t have enough time anymore to heat some. If they hurried with that and walked a bit faster they would still make it to church in time, easily. And after that they would see where the night took them - possibly not to sleep right away.

Nevertheless, there was always enough time to steal at least one more kiss, and so Steve did, getting up on tiptoe to push his lips against Bucky’s, allowing the contact to last maybe a moment longer than he had initially planned.

Steve could think nothing other than, yes, this definitely was one of the best Christmases he had ever had.

 

***

 

_**December 1943** _

 

The sound of the door falling shut behind them, of the key being turned was the best thing Bucky had heard since Steve’s voice had brought him out of his pain-induced delirium in some hell-hole in Austria. His breath rushed out of him, and he didn’t give Steve time to do anything more than turn back around to him before his fingers were buried in the front of his uniform, he pushed him back against the door, and crashed their lips together.

It wasn’t the first time they kissed since that day; they had caught a quick one here and there between debriefings and recruiting, between making camp and marching on. The overcrowded inn they had moved in with the other five soldiers in early December, however, for the first time since the rescue, gave them the opportunity to be alone together for an entire night, and nothing was going to stop them from taking advantage of that fact every second they had.

It was still odd, having to crane his neck up a bit to reach him, but the kiss itself felt hardly different than kissing Steve had felt before. His lips still tasted the same, warm, soft and moist against Bucky’s. The soft hum that soon turned into a hoarse sigh still made Bucky shiver in the best of ways; and the way Steve clung onto him, his body much stronger, broader, taller but his movements - a gentle, indescribable sweetness in them no matter how heated and desperate they were - made Bucky sure he’d recognise Steve even blind or deaf.

“God, Bucky, I missed you,” Steve sighed against his cheeks, his lips hardly willing to part from his skin for more than a moment. And Bucky knew exactly what he meant. Not being there with each other again, after long months spent apart, but this. Touching without restraint, kissing just like they wanted to, and Bucky thought he’d get dizzy with how good it felt, how much he wanted right in this moment, everything at once, because he knew already that even having all night to themselves, finally, wasn’t going to be enough.

“You’re such a sap,” he replied against Steve’s lips, barely even breaking the kiss, but followed up with, “I missed you like hell, Rogers,” nevertheless.

Steve let out a short laugh at that, throaty and a little breathless. His face nuzzled against Bucky’s, he placed a gentle kiss to his cheek before he drew back to look at Bucky. The gaze out of his blue eyes was so gentle and warm that it came almost as a surprise when he suddenly grabbed Bucky’s uniform collar with one hand and - a little more forcefully than Bucky would have expected - turned them around to push Bucky against the wall next to the door now and kiss him hungrily.

A soft, surprised moan came over Bucky’s lips before he could quiet it down. For a moment he couldn’t even move, pressed against the wall like this, but not because Steve wouldn’t back off immediately - he knew he would if he only gave him the faintest of signs - but because he didn’t want to. This was…

For a while after they had escaped the facility in Austria, hours, maybe a day, Bucky had stared at Steve, unable to really comprehend what his eyes were seeing. There had been so many conflicting feelings, feelings that he had realised were awful, but he hadn’t been able to quench them entirely. He knew that Steve, the old Steve, _his_ Steve, was gone. And for a while, a short while, he hadn’t been sure who had taken his place. He had retreated somewhere private as soon as he’d been able to, and had allowed himself a few moments to grieve that tiny, skinny boy he’d loved so much.

Of course it hadn’t taken him more than a few short hours to decide that he didn’t give a damn. He’d always love Steve, no matter in what package, no matter if in a tiny apartment back in Brooklyn or out here on a European battlefield.

And then, once the first shock had been over, he had continued staring at Steve as subtly as he could. Because damn it all, he was just as beautiful now.

This, now -  to feel the broad shoulders under his fingers, dig their tips into hard muscle, be pressed against that wall like it took Steve no effort whatsoever, making his knees weak - this was amazing. It felt right; new and old-familiar at the same time; exciting and comforting.

This was _perfect_.

Bucky bit down on his next moan, muffled it against Steve’s lips and pushed his hips up against him, a shudder going through his whole body.

“Steve, God… need you…”

The only response he got was a shaky, trembling sigh that could have been a sound of agreement, had Steve been willing to keep his lips from kissing Bucky’s cheeks, jaw, lips, again and again.

Eventually, he did draw away, tugging at Bucky’s uniform jacket, his belt, seemingly unable to decide which item to get rid of first. In the end, it was a hasty pulling and pushing, a tangle of fabric and limbs with both of them having to take off their own clothing lest they wanted to end up on the floor. It made them laugh when it nearly happened, once, and Steve stole a brief kiss from Bucky before he tended to his underpants and socks.

As soon as he was standing on both feet again, Bucky pushed him backwards, hands on his chest, onto the narrow bed, and followed immediately. At least they got to share it unlike the other men who were probably tossing coins already over who was sleeping on the floor.

His left hand slid into Steve’s hair while their bodies aligned and he kissed him again, heart racing in breathlessness, and it felt ridiculous how Bucky could just lie right on top of him now without ever feeling like he might be too heavy, that he might crush him. But at the same time it was so good that he had no doubt he’d grow to absolutely love this in no time at all.

The way Steve yielded into his touch, back arched, head pushed back into the pillows and hands clutching onto his shoulders and arms to pull him closer, it almost made Bucky feel as if he had shrunk, not the other way around. Because there, as he had noticed during their kisses already, was no difference to before.

“Bucky,” he sighed, breath already quickened, and for a moment the heated urgency vanished from his touch and movements as he brought one hand to Bucky’s cheek. He caressed it gently, fingers brushing over his skin so slowly, while looking him deep in the eyes. Aside from adoration and desire there was something else in his gaze, and it only became apparent to Bucky what it meant when Steve spoke again. “I’m so glad. So glad you’re with me.”

It made his throat close up for a moment, and Bucky couldn’t have that. Not now.

So he forcefully clamped down on any tightness that wanted to rise in his chest, and gave a brief, unwilling shake of his head.

“Don’t be stupid. I’m always with you.” A bit more muscle, or even a whole lot of that wouldn’t change a thing. Nor the looks, the attention, the respect, any of that. Certainly not the war.

Bucky shook all of that off and kissed Steve again. Not quite as hard or frantic this time, and he murmured words against his lips after a couple of moments. “I want you to fuck me, with all you got. Make me forget this place, the weather, the war, this whole damn continent… All of this.”

Again, Steve seemed to have no verbal response, but there was a mixture of emotion on his features as he looked up at Bucky: arousal and the faintest trace of heartbreak.

“You sure?” he asked softly. “I’m fine if you--”

“Don’t,” was out before Steve had the chance to even finish that, and Bucky gently bit down on Steve’s lower lip before turning his head and pressing his face into the crook of his neck, the familiar scent. “Just do it.”

He didn’t voice the ‘please’ that balanced precariously on the tip of his tongue.

There was a gentle kiss against his forehead, and then Steve whispered close to his ear, “Lie on your belly.”

When Bucky shifted to do as he’d been told, he kept watching Steve over his shoulder. Steve got off from the bed and went over to one of the bags they had brought into the room earlier. He returned a moment later with a jar of vaseline that he put down on the small nightstand as he sat back down on the edge of the bed. His gaze fixed on Bucky’s face, a tiny smile on his lips, Steve let his right hand wander down Bucky’s back in the gentlest, lightest of touches.

Bucky’s breath came out in a soft sigh, and he let his head sink down onto the pillow, lids half lowered, but always watching Steve out of the corners of his eyes. Something uncurled in him, some tension he hadn’t realised had been there, now that he could just let Steve do all this.

The thing was, he had meant it. He wanted to close his eyes and not be reminded of that grim, dark place. Wanted for Steve to overwrite all that they’d done with him with touches of his own, make him forget that there’d ever been anything else. The darkness and thirst, the drugs and needles, the burning, the cold. The inevitability.

It was all still just too damn close, and he wanted Steve to make him think of nothing but him for a while.

It was already starting to work. The touch of Steve’s hands was so gentle, careful, loving. He had leaned closer over Bucky, propped on one arm. He didn’t seem able to stop kissing him, on his shoulder, upper arm, back. And when he had finally brought his hand between Bucky’s legs, and a slick finger slid into him slowly, there were sweet little words of encouragement, comfort and adoration coming over his lips. It offered him a way to get lost in them, so temptingly, let himself sink into them and forget about everything else.

And so he did. His eyelids had dropped further, his thighs had parted more, and he latched onto the soft words that just kept coming, Steve’s voice in his ear all the anchor he needed. Neither two fingers stung, nor three, just made warmth tingle in his gut, made him move back against them not impatiently, but still wanting more.

“Steve…”

Carefully, Steve withdrew his fingers, wiping them on a cloth he had brought to the bed as well. He leaned down again, another gentle kiss against Bucky’s shoulder. “How do you want it? Like this or on your back?”

It took barely a moment for Bucky to decide, and in reply he turned back around, grasping Steve’s hand to tug him over and above him. A tiny smile began to flicker over his lips then as he glanced up at Steve.

“Just like the first. Remember that?”

There was a tiny smirk at the corners of Steve’s lips before he released a soft, huffed laugh. “And it’s not even Christmas yet,” he said, and despite the earlier gentle devotion in every of his touches, the even somewhat sombre undertone that had settled in for a while, this - the smiles and tender hilarity - came completely natural. As it always had.

“I’ll do my best,” he added in that lighthearted, casually amused way of his, making Bucky huff out a soft laugh.

“Just start already,” he said, angled his legs enough that he could cradle Steve’s hips between them, and tilted his head up to bite gently into his jaw. “Don’t forget what I said. Want to be too sore to sit properly tomorrow.”

“Jesus, Buck,” Steve let out breathlessly, the small smile on his lips not quite covering the look of complete lust on his features. For another short moment, neither of them spoke nor moved, but then Steve brought their lips together again with such force that it went straight to his core.

Positioned between Bucky’s legs, he pushed one thigh further up and, that hungry, adoring gaze fixed on Bucky’s face, entered him with one long thrust.

It did sting a bit this time, but it was also the best thing Bucky had felt in endlessly long months. His fingers curled around Steve’s biceps, he licked his lips and breathed, tilting his hips up to press closer to him, get him deeper.

“Yeah, like that…”

And Steve complied, oh so readily it seemed. He pulled out again almost completely before he pushed back in, two, three measured and still rather careful thrusts before he finally started to pick up a rhythm.

“God, Bucky,” Steve sighed as he leaned back down to brush a kiss to his lips. “Didn’t think I’d ever--” He stopped himself before he could finish the sentence, but it wasn’t all that hard to guess what he had meant to say. Instead of allowing any kind of answer, though, Steve crashed their lips back together for a heated, rough kiss as his hips started to snap forward, harder and faster now.

The only thing Bucky could do was kiss him back, curl one hand on  the back of Steve’s neck, sling the other arm around his shoulders, and hold on, because right now he got exactly what he wanted. And even though he knew how Steve looked now, how strong he was now, objectively, his body still only remembered before, and the contrast was mind-blowingly arousing.

A part of him would probably always miss his old Steve, but this… God damn it all, this he could get used to.

“Oh… _damn_ , Steve…” escaped him at a particularly hard thrust and his hand flew out to brace himself against the wall above them to not be pushed too far up the bed. Seemed like Steve wasn’t even entirely aware of just how strong he was, all the time, and it made Bucky smile, brief and dizzy, before it was chased away by a helpless groan.

Steve pushed Bucky’s left leg up even higher for better purchase, and it very much seemed like he was not only _making_ his thrusts get harder to give Bucky what he had wanted, no, he also seemed to get lost in the intensity of it all, himself. From time to time, he leaned back down, their lips united again for kisses that were starting to become breathless and short rather than deliberate and skilled. Not that Bucky minded at all.

He was getting lost in this, lust curling in every part of his body, and even when his eyes slipped shut there was nothing but this, Steve over him, inside him, and he did forget everything else. It all burned away in a haze of bone-deep, aching pleasure that didn’t stop even when his climax was eventually ripped from him, hard and mind-numbing.

He couldn’t tell exactly how long it took for Steve to follow; he was only vaguely aware of how Steve thrust into him a few more times, of the sounds - loud groans now - that reached his ears only as if under water. There was no control anymore over his limbs; his whole body felt terribly weak, only that it wasn’t terrible at all. He was aware of how Steve collapsed on top of him, having sunk down, head on Bucky’s chest just when his own breathing had started to relax but Steve’s was still rapid . He could feel it under his hands, the rise and fall of those broad shoulders, and Bucky blinked slowly, the ceiling barely coming into focus.

He felt light everywhere, but he could already tell that, once this cleared, he’d ache all over.

It brought a smile to his lips as he let his eyes slide shut again.

Steve raised his head again after a while. His eyes still closed, Bucky felt Steve’s soft, moist lips against his, all urgency gone from the touch, just a gentle contact, open-mouthed with Steve breathing in through the kiss.

“I’ve missed this so much,” Steve said then, voice barely above a whisper, and he brushed another soft kiss against Bucky’s lips, making him open his eyes, look at him. “Missed you so much. Love you. God, I love you so much.” Another kiss, and Steve tried to wrap his arms around Bucky, pushing them underneath his back to hold him close, so close, and there was something surfacing, so clearly and overwhelmingly, that Steve had hidden from him until now. “I thought I’d lost you. That I’d spend this Christmas alone. I couldn’t bear it. Thought I’d never see you again. Never kiss you again.”

His voice was cracking slightly, and it pierced Bucky’s blissful haze sharply. “Sshh, hey, it’s okay,” he muttered worriedly, brushing his hands over Steve’s shoulders and over his hair in an attempt to comfort him while he let Steve hold him close. “You got me out. I’m fine, Stevie, we’re fine.”

Bucky wondered how he had missed this. That first day he had maybe been too wrapped up in what had happened, to him, to Steve, that he was out and safe but that the world was very different than it had been before. But after that… going to London, getting their team together, going on their first mission… he hadn’t even suspected that Steve was still so deeply shaken, that he’d been hiding this so well.

Swallowing down the tightness in his throat, Bucky ran his hand through the blond hair again. “Love you too, you punk. Won’t get rid of me that easily.”

It seemed to comfort him a little. A hint of a smile on his lips - but brow furrowed with the trace of sorrow he could not seem to shake off completely just yet - Steve pressed his lips against Bucky’s again, and it felt like a need to reassure himself, them both, that everything was, in fact, alright.

“I’m sorry,” he said then, the words muffled by a huffed out laugh that sounded a little embarrassed and apologising. “You wanted to forget everything, and here I am, reminding you of the worst.”

Relieved that Steve could at least smile again, Bucky relaxed and let out a soft chuckle and gently nudged the side of his head. “Don’t worry, you did that part pretty well.”

The small laugh that followed from Steve was a little less embarrassed, and a bit more genuine. “That’s good to hear,” he said as he settled on top of him a bit more comfortably again, still between Bucky’s knees, elbow on the mattress and head propped on one hand, his other gently placed on Bucky’s chest.

Christ, he still loved the way Steve looked at him sometimes.

Now that Steve seemed reassured again, Bucky was able to sink back into that wonderful feeling of post-sex bliss, not really wanting to move at all, warm and light and happy. With a smile on his lips he watched Steve back unabashedly, letting his thumb draw small circles on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said eventually, quiet but heartfelt.

It drew another soft huff from Steve, lips curled into a smile and shaking his head for a fraction. “Well, you’re welcome. Very much so.” This time, the smirk was positively dirty, which almost seemed ridiculous in contrast to the big blue puppy eyes looking back at him. “Care to return the favour later?”

It made Bucky laugh. “Mmhh, maybe I can be convinced,” he replied and stretched out luxuriously under him, the grin turning to a soft half sigh, half moan as his muscles worked. He actually felt wonderfully sore right now.

“No idea what I could bribe you with. Sadly, rations included neither christmas cookies nor eggnog,” Steve said as his hand was drawing lazy circles over Bucky’s chest, and Bucky sighed contently.

“Come here,” he murmured and reached down, curling his hand around the back of Steve’s neck, guiding him upwards as he followed the request. Once they were face to face again, Steve only resting half on top of him now, their legs tangling, Bucky drew his arm around Steve’s shoulders and kissed him, brief and loving. “‘m gonna do whatever you want. You get lots of free wishes cause it’s Christmas soon.”

“I have an idea or two,” Steve replied, an impish glint in his eyes. “And as long as you’re with me I don’t need much else anyway.”

“Sap,” Bucky only grinned, but kissed Steve anyway.

The look promised that he wasn’t going to have anything to complain later either.

 

***

 

Whatever they had promised each other, neither of them could know that only a year from now, Steve would sit in the bombed out ruins of an inn not much unlike this one, alone, desperately trying to drown what, combined with the guilt, felt like the greatest loss he had ever experienced in his young life.

It didn’t work. The sharp taste of the liquor didn’t burn as much as the tears he was failing to hold back.

Christmas would never be the same for him after this. And a part of him didn’t even want to see another.

 

***

 

_**Christmas Eve 2014** _

 

Snow had started to fall. Big flakes were illuminated by the street lamps as they slowly pivoted towards the ground, two storeys below. Some of them landed on the outer window sill as Steve looked outside before he turned his gaze back to the interior of the living room and to the figure sitting there on the floor by the stereo, a CD booklet in hand. Steve instantly had to smile.

It had been like this on many days over the past few weeks ever since Steve had decided that, this year, he finally wanted to expand his collection by adding a few Christmas albums. The two Christmases before that, listening to seasonal music and let alone decorating his apartment accordingly had been the furthest from his mind. In fact, he had put quite some effort into avoiding everything around the holidays all together.

This year, however, everything was different, and the reason for him slowly having regained his usual festive mood was already the greatest gift he could have ever wished for.

Bucky had come back, first from the dead and now even to him, and although he bore the scars, both physical and mental, of what he had been through, very visibly, Steve could not be any more grateful.

“Want some eggnog?” he asked as he walked over to the open kitchen. His, their new apartment in Brooklyn was spacious, the interior of high quality, and overall very different from the tiny, worn-down one they had lived in those many years ago. And yet it almost felt as homely to him now, cozy with the vintage furniture Pepper and Tony had selected for him when he had moved from DC back to New York, Bucky in tow who, those almost five months ago had barely remembered the street he had grown up on. He had come a long way from that.

It took a few moments, and Steve already wondered if Bucky might have been too deep in thought to have heard him, but eventually, like an afterthought, he did glance up at him.

“Sorry. Sure… we still have some?”

“One more carton,” Steve replied, taking the eggnog out of the fridge that was filled to the brim with food for the holidays. Some of it had already been used up for their Christmas dinner tonight - some fish that had turned out a little too dry, with vegetables and, a little bit unconventionally, potatoes au gratin. The next day they would actually attempt to make a roasted duck, which could end up being either disastrous or great, but Steve was looking forward to it either way.

“But even if we finish that I could always make some.” He grinned as he walked over with the two cups in hands, readily handing one over when Bucky reached for it, and sitting down cross-legged next to him.

“Thanks,” Bucky said and raised the small cup between his hands, as always taking in the scent first. But his gaze was still on the booklet he had put down in front of him, and as a new song started, he reached for it to look at the title. “That one’s new?”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve said, needing a few moments to recognise the tune. Despite his best efforts last Christmas and the one before, ‘Baby it’s Cold Outside’ was one of the songs that couldn’t have been missed. “From the late forties, I think, originally. What are the artists again?” he asked, briefly tugging on the booklet to read. “Ah. That guy does a lot of music like the one from our time, actually. Oh, and she was in a musical, I think. The one based on the Wizard of Oz. The Wicked Witch of the West.”

He could see that Bucky’s eyes widened a little as he glanced up at him. “There’s a musical about the Wizard of Oz?” The corners of his mouth twitched just a tiny bit before he took his first sip. “I’m never going to get caught up with all this.”

“I know the feeling,” Steve replied before he took another sip of his eggnog. His left foot had automatically started tapping in rhythm of the song that was currently playing. “Did you have enough of the more modern ones, then?” he asked. Another CD they had been listening to a couple of times over the past few days was one that Tony had sent them - as an early Christmas gift, as the card had read - was lying next to the stereo now. Aside from a couple of ‘hard rock’ songs, which seemed to be Tony’s preferred style of music, there had been mostly hilarious and some rather ridiculous songs - and one that Steve wouldn’t even mention to anyone out loud lest he wanted to feel like he should wash his mouth out with soap. It had been amusing anyway.

“Of that CD at least, yeah,” Bucky shrugged with the hint of a smile and leaned back against the TV board, comfortably pulling his knees up to his chest. “Found some other modern ones on Youtube, they weren’t bad.”

Steve had to smile at that as well. It was such a small, almost ridiculously mundane detail, but compared to the rather apathetic state Bucky had been in just a few months ago, the fact that he showed interest in things, truly enjoyed them and adjusted to life in the twenty-first century made Steve happier and more relieved than he had expected, then.

They were quiet for a while, just listening to the song until it ended and was followed by ‘I’ll Be Home For Christmas’, and with it, the rather light mood Steve had been in was replaced by a deep sense of melancholy. The song had first been released that last Christmas they had spent together during the war, and the loss he’d experienced not twelve months later made his stomach twist with an aching longing to turn back the clocks to that winter in 1943. Despite all the joys of having Bucky back in his life there were some things that were still painfully real to him but seemed like more than a lifetime away.

“Our tree really did turn out great,” he said, having to draw his attention from the music, his thoughts back to the here and now and everything good in it. “Though I’m not sure I can warm up to those electric candles.”

“Natasha said there are still some people who use real ones,” Bucky replied with a glance over to the tree, and his gaze lingered this time, making him look deep in thought again. “Wouldn’t mind that either.”

“Those are safer, though,” Steve replied with a shrug. “I’m kinda fond of this apartment.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows at him just a little, the amusement in his voice dry when he replied. “As far as I remember there were plenty of candles back then, and we managed never to set anything on fire either.”

For a second, Steve found himself surprised by the statement, and he had to mull it over in his mind a few times, wondering whether he had heard and interpreted it correctly. But it seemed that way. The Christmases with his family aside, Bucky seemed to remember those two they had spent together in their apartment, too. He had to swallow down the lump that was forming in his throat.

“Sheer dumb luck,” he said with a good-natured smile, slapping Bucky on his upper arm before he got back up and made his way into the kitchen again to refill their cups. “Want anything else? Some cookies? More bourbon in the eggnog?”

“No, I’m good.”

Steve took the carton of eggnog out of the fridge and poured the thick, creamy beverage into the two cups on the half-counter separating the kitchen from the living room. From the corner of his eye he saw that Bucky had gotten to his feet as well, and when Steve looked again after having put the carton back in the fridge, Bucky had slowly come closer, meeting Steve halfway around the counter. It was only then that he spotted the small twig Bucky was twirling between his fingers, and it took him another moment to recognise what it was.

“What’s that?” he asked nevertheless, wondering whether it had fallen from the wreath at the door and Bucky had picked it up for that reason.

But Bucky was looking at him way too long, way too deliberate for it to be nothing. And when he replied, not breaking their gaze, what came out was, "Tradition."

It felt in that moment as if Steve’s heart stood still, as if all breath had left his lungs and he found himself incapable to do or say anything, let alone make sense of what was happening. But then, slowly, it started to dawn on him, the word - a reminder of what Bucky had said to him that early December in 1941 when he had held a mistletoe above them - and the gaze that rested on him with more meaning than any further words could have conveyed.

When he didn't say anything, Bucky glanced down at the mistletoe in his hand for a brief moment. "Why didn't you hang it up?" he asked, and the soft twitching of the corners of his mouth as he looked at Steve again betrayed something gentle, something... hopefully teasing. "Don't want to kiss me anymore?"

Steve let out a shaky breath, and he didn’t quite know whether it should have been a laugh or a sigh - a bit of both maybe. By now, his heart was beating rapidly in his chest, and his mind was still not fully able to catch on with what was really happening. He wanted to say something profound and true, something like ‘nothing could be further from the truth’ or ‘there’ll never be a time I won’t want to kiss you’, but the words did not come over his lips, his throat tight, tongue and lips too heavy to form any speech.

Bucky remembered. He remembered that late evening in 1941, remembered their first kiss.

He wanted to kiss him again.

“God, of course,” he just breathed out, and this time the smile it brought to Bucky’s lips was unmistakable. He looked at Steve for a moment longer before his gaze dropped to the mistletoe between them, then up again, and his gaze caught on Steve’s lips.

This time he moved in without any other word, tilting his head up just as much as he needed for a soft, unassuming kiss.

Steve could still remember that very first kiss as if it had been just yesterday. Despite there having been many more skilfull or passionate kisses that followed in the years after, he had, to this day, thought of it as the most memorable, most wonderfully exciting one he’d ever known.

Until this very moment.

The kiss was so gentle, so fleeting even, but at the same time it made Steve’s heart swell with joy in a way no other kiss he could remember had ever done. It was, beyond the nearly innocent physical contact, a promise and an outlook, a taste of home and belonging. And when it wore off and Bucky, hesitantly, drew back enough to look at him, there was something similar on his face. Something hopeful, a little stunned, and beyond that tentative happiness.

Another huff of breath that wasn’t quite a laugh escaped Steve before he found his speech again. “You remember. You… you know we used to…” He gestured vaguely between the two of them, not sure how much or when precisely Bucky had remembered.

As a reply he received a soft huff in return, and Bucky’s gaze slipped away from his. “Yeah, I… I know. I’ve known for a bit,” he said, and the way his gaze was lowered and his voice quiet made it sound like a confession.

“You have?” Steve asked, feeling surprise beyond anything.

Bucky nodded, then breathed in and looked into his eyes again. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure if it was just in my head, at first. Didn’t know how to ask either. At some point I was fairly sure it was real, but… I wanted to be certain.” He shrugged, and the corners of his mouth twitched a little as his tone was coloured with a side of dry humour. “You know, that you were still the love of my life and all that.”

Steve could not be disappointed or feel regret that it had taken so long, not in the slightest. The only thing he felt in that moment was the first slowly rising spark of relief that still made his throat feel tight with emotion.

“And…” he started then, tentatively, not yet daring to reach out again or let hope and relief become rock-solid certainty. “Am I?”

"Think I would have done this if you weren't?" Bucky replied without even a second's hesitation. "That's why I waited after all. You just... have to tell me if I'm still yours."

“Of course you are.” The words, barely louder than a whisper, had come out faster than Steve could have considered them. It was all he had needed, all he could think of wanting to hear, and he finally moved, quickly laid one hand on the back of Bucky’s neck and and brought their lips back together.

It was still a slow kiss, still one to rediscover each other, but Bucky sighed and his hand slid up Steve's shirt, fingers hooking lightly into the button front, and it definitely was with a lot more depth of feeling than before.

Steve could have kissed him much longer than that, but the faintest of laughs - a small sound of joy and elation - made him break the contact of their lips. He rested his forehead against Bucky’s for a few moments instead, eyes closed and still having to wrap his mind around the fact that this was really true.

Bucky was smiling too, and the way he seemed to relax against Steve was with an old, bone-deep familiarity. He didn't make any move to untangle his fingers from Steve's shirt, his eyes warm and happy.

"Of course I am, hm?"

“Yeah,” Steve could only reply, feeling a smile spread on his lips into a wide, open-mouthed grin. “Always, Bucky. There’s never been anyone else, and there won’t be, because I’m not letting you go another time.” The words had almost stumbled over his lips. Maybe it was impossible to make such promises, but that cautious part of Steve had been swept away by exhilaration, and they had been through so much already, more than for two lifetimes.

“Now if that doesn’t sound like quite a claim…” Bucky replied, but his smile was widening, obviously not minding in the least. “Too bad for everyone else. But I was right, wasn’t I? You did get to test that theory after all,” he added, pressing a light kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth, then his lips.

It took Steve a moment to try and make sense of Bucky’s words, and he already wanted to ask what Bucky had meant when it suddenly dawned on him. A smirk formed on his lips, both from amusement but also awe that Bucky had remembered a detail so small.

“Yeah, I did. And you were right. Though I’m glad to say it hasn’t happened as much recently as during my dancing monkey days.”

“I need to watch those reels.” Bucky’s grin widened a little, and his fingers finally untangled from between his buttons to trace his collar instead, fingertips light on his skin. “So how did it feel, to have all the world want to kiss you senseless?”

The sensation, small as it might be, made him barely able to grasp any other thought, and he smiled, shook his head in a minuscule movement. “Not nearly as great as you wanting to kiss me.” He wasn’t even exaggerating.

“See?” The smile was still there, but softer now, more affectionate, more touched maybe, and there must have been a need for even more closeness, because Bucky took one more step closer, right into Steve’s space, and tucked himself against his body into an embrace, both arms coming around his waist. “That’s what I’ve always said.”

Steve took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of Bucky’s hair as he wrapped his arms tightly around him, the side of his face nuzzled against Bucky’s head. For a long moment, he enjoyed that gentle, affectionate embrace even more than the few kisses they had just shared, starved for a contact so simple that there had been so much of, then, but much too little in recent months.

“To be fair,” he started then, a soft smirk curling around his lips again, “you kind of let yourself out of the equation when you said I’d be annoyed by so much attention.”

“Yeah, well, I never included _you_ in the equation either,” Bucky returned with a soft, contented sigh, his breath ghosting softly over the side  of Steve’s neck. After a short moment, he added quietly, “I don’t mind people looking at you so much anymore.”

The smile never vanished from Steve’s features. It was astounding how naturally they were finding their way back into the old familiarity. As if decades of ice had melted like snow against the warm window panes after that first, new kiss. “And you don’t have to. They can look all they want, but only you can touch. But that wasn’t any different, before. Nothing’s changed since then.”

There was a soft hum in reply that could have meant a lot in that moment. But then Bucky said, “I just needed to figure it all out. Myself, you, us… I’m sorry I never said anything for so long.”

“It’s okay, Bucky. It’s really okay.” Steve still had his arms around Bucky as he slowly leaned back to get a better look at him. He did look different than back then - his hair longer, his face a little older, a little harder - but no matter how little or much he had changed, the way Steve felt when they looked another in the eyes, held each other close as they did now, it was still the same, same depth and intensity and firm knowledge that it would never change. Steve was getting a glimpse, if only rudimentarily, of what it must have been like for Bucky when they had found each other again and Steve had been a changed man.

“Everything’s as it should be. Doesn’t matter how long it took us to get here, I’m sure it was just as long as was needed.”

“You horrible optimist,” Bucky mumbled, but there was affection in his eyes, happiness, and when he raised his right hand to rest it on Steve’s cheek, thumb brushing over his skin, it was with the utmost care. And then the small smile was back. “You do know what this means though? What we gotta do?”

Steve could only raise his eyebrows in question, at a complete loss - and trying to ignore that his mind was drifting in a direction that certainly hadn’t been intended. “What?”

The smile on Bucky’s lips widened into a grin. “We need to go to the ballet.”

Steve also ignored that he was a _tiny_ , tiny bit disappointed for a split-second that the direction had, indeed, been a completely different one. “I was going to suggest that Wicked musical, but you’re right. We did say we’d do that sometime.”

Instead of replying to that, however, Bucky just looked at him for a long moment. First with something that could have been brief surprise, then with his eyes narrowing just a little, and then with eyebrows rising a fraction in what could have only been amusement. And he said slowly, “Did you _really_ just…?”

“Did I just what?”

“Don’t pretend to be innocent, I _know_ that look.”

A faint laugh escaped him, making his cheeks glow slightly, and Steve lowered his gaze. He was, most of all, astounded, though, that Bucky still knew him so well, remembered it all - or at least most of what had been _them_.

Instead of even trying to explain himself, Steve shrugged and took Bucky’s right hand in his. He tugged him along for a step in direction of the couch before he let go, crossing the distance and letting himself fall onto the soft cushions. Nodding his head, he prompted Bucky to follow him.

“The Nutcracker, was it? Will have to check whether we can get any tickets. You know what’s really great, though?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me real soon,” Bucky replied dryly, but followed the prompt and sat down as well, one leg folded underneath him, turned fully towards Steve.

Steve was well aware that the grin on his features - that he couldn’t even have concealed if he had wanted to - turned into a leer, and he reached for Bucky’s hand again, still not wanting to miss any contact between them for longer than was strictly necessary. “If you still wanted to make out with me during the performance that would be completely within the realms of the possible today. And the legal.”

It was obvious that something like that hadn’t occurred to Bucky yet. Yes, it had been one of the things he had been told about, how many things were different these days, but Steve knew from his face alone that he hadn’t yet applied that to himself. Or them.

Then the astonishment faded away and instead Bucky _laughed_ , soft but honest, and then he reached for Steve to draw him into a new kiss.

And maybe, kissing in the cozy intimacy of their apartment was so much better anyway. They could just let it take them wherever it went, could draw the moments out, kiss slowly and softly with nothing drawing their attention from one another; or they could let it become more heated and urgent, sink back against the seats on top of one another and get lost in the hasty, intense kisses without having to mind anyone or anything around them. Right now, it started to look like the still tender, careful kiss they were sharing might go in direction of the latter, but only a few moments later Bucky gently broke away.

His breathing had gotten heavier, his lips were red, and he just looked at Steve for a moment before he smiled and leaned their foreheads together.

“I do want all of that, Steve,” he said softly, his fingers tracing the side of his face. “I want the ballet, and you in a suit, and to kiss you where everyone can see. I want to get Nat and Sam and all your friends for a ridiculous dinner. And _of course_ I want to sleep with you again, because if my memory isn’t completely messed up, it was always _amazing_. I want it all, Steve, you hear me?”

Steve could do nothing but release a deep, shaky breath. Even though it had been clear many moments ago that things were going back to how they had been before, hearing it like that, hearing everything he could have expected and hoped for, and beyond that so much more, it made Steve breath- and speechless with joy. The only thing he could do was lean in again, kiss Bucky, firm and fierce, with all the gratefulness he was feeling, an affirmation of what they shared and what was to come.

“This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had. I’m even glad it took you until tonight to figure it all out, because there’s nothing that could ever have trumped this.”

The grin that appeared on Bucky’s lips was brilliant and impish, and it seemed like at least for the moment, his happiness made him more like the Bucky of before than anything else so far had done.

“Why do you think I waited for today?”

Once more, Steve found himself speechless, even if for a different reason, and the laugh he let out after a moment was in amused disbelief. He shoved Bucky off with a playful push of his hand. “Oh, so it was that? You left me hanging there just so you could show off with the best Christmas present. You know what? I take everything back.”

Bucky had been half pushed and had half let himself fall back, and now he was lying on the other side of the couch, laughing helplessly. “But you can’t,” he said and then quieted down enough to smile at Steve, eyes bright with warmth. “You promised, remember? No takebacks. Ever.”

There was nothing Steve could answer. He took Bucky’s hand in his and pulled himself forward, happiness making his chest ache in the best of ways, a laugh bubbling from it that he couldn’t contain. “You’re right,” he said anyway, and the kiss that followed was enough to say that he really didn’t want to take back a single thing.


End file.
